


The Way of the Superior Man

by JLKnox



Series: How Brio could actually work... [9]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Angry Makeouts, Angst and Feels, Between the Scenes, Brio in cars, F/M, Failed partnership, Heavy Angst, Liars who lie, Makeup attempt, So much talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:06:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23490625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JLKnox/pseuds/JLKnox
Summary: Rio's still pissed, but he gives Beth one last chance to try to repair.---Combines s3e6 and s3e7 with scenes from both and a between-scenes interlude.  Referencesch.17 from Total Money Makeover===“So instead a havin a conversation, you bring an idiot with a gun to what – assassinate me? In my own bar? Durin open hours?”“How am I supposed to have a conversation with you when you block my number?” He flinches at that and looks back out his side window.“Turnabout fair play,” he says, breath fog making a small circle on the glass in front of him. “Sides, never stopped ya before. You seem t’always get holda me.”I remember blocking his number last year around the time of the Fall Festival – the last time I cut things off. Before… “Not when you went to Legoland and the shit hit the fan.”
Relationships: Beth Boland/Rio
Series: How Brio could actually work... [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657150
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	The Way of the Superior Man

“Max has got the woman who owns the place so freaked out, she’s got it on lockdown. So great job, Mr. CFO!”

And there it is – m’Elizabeth. Whole time since I been back, actin scared an skittish an I find out I want her anyway… but now, now when she finally find her spine, I know the truth an no amount a money coul make me touch her.

It stupid, cuz I know… I know dis parta her the one that lied… the part I saw, what drew me to her in the first place ...an now it what hurt me bad enough to make me… 

Nah, I ain’t gonna. But I sure ain’t wanna talk t’her.

I know she did it to survive cuz she ain’t know how I’z gonna react an I came on pretty aggro. Dinnint really know I was gonna have flashbacks when I saw her an dinnint have the mind to keep myself in the now. She was scared an she said what she needed to keep herself alive.

Intellectually, I understand it. My heart, tho – my heart cain’t get past it.

Survival don consider the other person’s feelins.

I don think she know how deep she cut.

I gotta look away so I don’t fly off when she attack me dis time.

“So who’s the boyfriend?”

I look down at my hands. Doin’ that a lot lately.

“Why?”

“Cuz he’s gonna need an address.” I nod at Mick. He ain’t as threatnin as Dags, but he scary in other ways – I think he actually like the violence.

“No.” She solid as ever with that.

“We gotta get back up an runnin. I got my own debts t’pay, aight?” If she think the credit card bill for that getaway the only thing hangin over me, I could introduce her t’some of the guys that were there. Good thing they know her face now, an might come lookin fer her when I’m late.

‘No!” This time she take a tone wit me like I’m a toddler an that’s enough.

Finally, I turn toward her an look.

“Oh, you still think you getta say in this, hunh? Nah see, that ship sail when you put three slugs in me.”

“This is _your_ fault!” She shakin, she so upset bout Lucy, I can see it. Yeah, well, shoulda thought a that before she tol me my kid died but was lyin. Life for a life, rite?

“You…me…we?” I get dismissive, shrug an pause, lookin back atter with a face that gotta tell her where she stand. Where this ‘we’ is right now, cuz it ain’t nothin else.

“Is jus bizness.” I look her up an down fer what might be a last time – an feel nothin. An the look I give her say so.

And I know it. That last phrase made it so clear – whatever happened in the hotel is already over. I have no idea why, but he is transparent in his lack of compassion. I can feel it stretching thin, this thing between us. It’s been stretched before…and cut, hacked to pieces, tied back together, the ends melted into one another. This time, though, the elastic snaps and the recoil sends the severed end into my face, stinging. I nearly flinch even though the pain is emotional.

I can see she get the message out the corner my eye, cuz I’m sittin there, trynta feel like it ain’t sting me, either. It do, but my anger make a nice cushion. Still, a loss is a loss an I sit holdin botha my empty hands while she see how serious I am. Baby an babymomma in the course of a coupla weeks – none in the hand; none in the bush.

So be it.

“I’ll print,” comes out soft but strong; sad but firm. She ain’t want no more loss – not Lucy’s boyfriend, not our… we.

But collateral damage a thing. An neither a what she wants t’protect is safe.

Can’t help but rub it in wit that voice she hate. My wypipo basic voice.

“But what happened? I thought you were on lockdown?” I look at her like we girlfriends gosspin over coffee.

“I’ll find a way,” she say. Like she couldna before.

Fuck her fer draggin me out in the rain jus to threaten her inta doin her job.

“Gee thanks,” I don even bother puttin the sarcasm in. “That’ll make it easier on everybody.”

She ain’t the only one who recognize an exit line.

But I can see her from the car, lettin it all sink in.

Turnabout fair play, ma.

===

Coupla days later, Mick call me outta the van, _again._

Workin wit Beth – Beth-Beth, not Elizabeth – a pain in my ass. Bitch need so much personal attention.

Walkin up to th’table, I can see why I’m needed.

“Looks a lil light.”

“I couldn’t make as much.”

“Whyzzat?”

“The price of ink went up.”

“Gonna needa see that invoice.”

Give her my unimpressed face as she pull a paper outta her inner coat pocket an hand it over proudly.

“Thought you might.”

Light sucks here, an I tilt it round. She good, but I been doin this a long time. The font for the total is close, but not quite. But if I catch her out later, I got an excuse for more than I do now. Still, I ain’t sure I hid the disappointment on my face as I look at her. Distraction usually works.

“How’s the boyfrien?”

She look at me a lil too long, a lil too blank. Zis what it look like when I do it? No wonder she never believe me. Surprised anyone do…not surprised it fools D-bag, tho.

“He got over it.”

If I believe what’s under her face, she ain’t over it. Yeah, I ain’t over what she did, either. She wanna play? I can play. Gimme a knife an I’ll twist.

I make the half-smile climb up my face as I turn.

“They always do.”

Tonight, I’m glad my number two in Ohio, cuz the second we got in th’van, he’d be callin me out. As it is, I get a peaceful drive back.

Alone wit m’thoughts, wonderin what Boss Bitch gonna do wit th’extra cash she kept.

Wonderin zactly what Imma do when I find out.

===

Looking at myself in the mirror after I start my shower, waiting for the water to warm up, I like how my hair is falling out of my bun, framing my face.

Just business between us? Sure.

What I need to do is rewrite those memories of him. Two beautiful, amazing, powerful…showerheads…in that hotel… one small amazing shower experience from Warehouse2… I can have just as good a shower moment here at home.

I snort, looking back up at our tiny little limed-over showerhead. Sure, with that thing and with D-bag…I mean, Dean?

He’s the father of my children. And it could never have lasted with Rio. We’re too different. He’s too controlling. He stole from me.

At least Dean still wants me. He practically pouts every night. It won’t be that bad. It will help me forget. Get me back in the right place. Where I belong. Here at home.

You tried that last year, remember the Fall Festival? That worked real great.

 _Really well._ Stop it, you’re starting to think in his voice.

You’ve thought like him for a long time.

With this argument rankling in my brain, I stand near the bannister in my robe, trying to force him to stop ignoring me. He mumbles something about things being weird since Rio got back.

“Just cuz he’s back, doesn’t mean that … you and I… can’t stay weird.”

And he turns back to the bird.

Practically throwing myself at him, and he’s enamored with the bird.

And then he brings up Au Jus.

Mood.   
Killed.

I go back into the bedroom, back into the bathroom, lock the door, get into the shower by myself. And cry.

For Lucy. For my marriage. For a baby that never did or will exist. For my business Rio took from me. For the lover I lost for no discernable reason. For everything Rio did to make me unhappy in this life. And for everything he took with him now that he’s decided he gets to be only half-in, even though I don’t get that luxury.

Dean rattles the doorknob for a minute, makes a confused noise, then a concerned one. And I just keep crying.

Drying myself off afterwards, I allow myself one moment of indulgence.

> Will you at least tell me why?   
Delivery failed.

Damn, that’s cold.

===

 _Man pops up like a genie_.

I hear the words come out of my mouth and think about team young guy… I shake the blush from my cheeks as they drive up and he gets out of the van immediately instead of waiting for a summons.

“How’s it feel?”

“Still light,” Mick says as he picks up the boxes.

Rio clears his throat.

“Some fancy ink.”

“I can’t control the world market.” Good lord, I hate that too-curled, tight-lipped smile of his. Every time I see it, my skin crawls. I’m trying to sort out the battling impulses – the image of parts of him popping up versus that disconcerting smile – when I realize he’s walking away without setting down another bag.

While I protest, he finally stops and tells me I won’t get any more singles, even though he’s still making a profit.

“Not if you don’t trust your partners.”

And I let myself fully consider an idea that was born in the shower.

He knows I’m skimming.

===

Another evening, another summons to the bar. Mick text me that her an her “ink guy” come out t’see me, cept he tells me:

  * It’s Lucy’s boyfriend
  * He’s got a piece in his jacket pocket.



Boss Bitch severely underestimatin me an overestimatin her team. What, like she thought I wouldn’ run him down the second she tell me Lucy wasn’t alone? An like he gonna cap me right here in public?

Naaahhh.

It’ll be much more enjoyable watchin her squirm, so I give my annoyed face rather than a blank one, pretend I ain’t know what goin on. An it ain’t a lie: I am annoyed. I got better things t’be doin.

I swing onto a barstool at a high-top, facin Boss Bitch.

“What is this?”

“You wanted to meet my ink guy.”

Boy sweatin bullets, almost literally. I can see the idea of shootin me leavin his brain. I can’t help it, laugh strugglin up my face an I feel it. All I can do t’keep it to the start of a grin.

“You want somethin?” I ask, meanin in general, meanin business, but he give me a drink order. A lame drink order. That laugh threatens harder as I relay it to the first waiter walks by.

He ain’t correct me when I give him the wrong state, an she even use his real name. Clearly, despite everything we been through, she decided I’m stupid suddenly. It’s delicious. I keep my smile behind my fist as I rest my chin on it an look her in the eye.

Why is it so easy to stare at her when she piss me off, but when she kick me in the gut I can only look at my hands?

“I’m all ears.”

He isn’t kidding…those ears are like ½ his face. How could I ever have found that face…those lips…those eyelashes…attractive? Shit. I move my knees together as I can feel myself starting to get wet. Stupid bodily betrayal while he’s entirely pissing me off.

Like Max is pissing me off, chickening out like a little shit. Maybe I can encourage him, like Rio did with me at the loft.

“Go ahead,” I know it’s a busy bar, I know he’s never shot anyone before, but we’re never going to get a better chance.

I used the line about making it all go away.

“Just…give it to him straight.” The angle isn’t great but the music’s loud and people are talking, it will be fine. He can do this. Maybe I couldn’t do this, but Max’s girlfriend is dead, he’s angry and wants revenge, why can’t he do this?

“I…I’ve made a mistake.” Fuuuuuuuck. “I shouldn’t have tried to raise my prices on you.” Goddammit!

Right, well, you didn’t really want him dead, did you, BB? Without him you’d never be moving as much funny money as you are.

But I’d be making some back, at least. And it would be mine again.

Is that what you want, B? Are you really ready for something that’s yours?

Or is it something else that you want to be yours?

Why not both? Why not fucking both?

Rio gets up to leave. “Wait.” I have to call him back, for once last shot. “That all?”

It’s not happening. I know it’s not, but I did not expect Max to thank him.

“You work with some really smart people,” I feel her lean into my hand as I lay it on her shoulder, predictable as a magnet. Even as she registers the insult – that she ain’t the smart one.

An she ain’t the smart one, bringin that boy to pull a gun on me in a crowded room. She should know …she should _know_ not even this din cover the noise of a gunshot.

An she shoulda known this piece a piss wouldna be able to do it.

Literal piece a piss: boy done wet himself in my bar. Leavin out through the back, I tell the waitstaff that his stool gonna need some extra care an cleanin. Few hours later an it would mix in wit spilled beer, but this time a day it stands out.

Max doesn’t have to admit it while we sit in the car; it’s the only thing I can smell, but a mom’s nose can also actively ignore it.

Telling him that shooting Rio would have just made him feel nothing, that voice in my head – Elizabeth’s voice – tells me I’m wrong. Well, maybe Max would feel nothing, because he would go into shock like I had. But I didn’t feel nothing then, and I wouldn’t have felt nothing if he’d succeeded.

I know I’m feeling grief now. I know I felt grief then.

I can’t imagine the abyss that would swallow me if I knew he was gone.

That darkness slides up from the pit of my stomach, making a void out of my face and blanking my eyes as I pull out of the bar’s parking lot to drive him home. I barely remember the journey, my body on autopilot, flashing back to that long walk and bus ride just three months ago.

But we’re stopped now, and in front of his apartment. He’s trying to blot the seat with the blanket I gave him and I’m telling him to leave it; I’ll launder both. Max stammers something and I wave absentmindedly, my softly muttered “Go. Go home, Max,” resulting in a long pause and then the passenger door shutting softly.

She got the heels of her hands pressed to her eyes, deep shudderin breaths comin out her mouth as I walk up. Swore she stayed parked cuz she recognized Mick’s car wit that stupid spoiler, but nah, guess she need a moment.

I ain’t got a moment.

The driver’s door opens and without opening my eyes, I put out my left hand firmly and say with some strength, “I _told_ you I will be fine, Max.” A bony hand grabs my wrist and yanks me out of the seat with no resistance because the belt moves automatically when the door opens. I grab the wheel with my right hand to keep my balance and to fight back.

“Yeah, y’look peachy. Roll down the windows, Elizabeth, an let that piss air out.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I shake my damn head as I exhale, but without thinking, she take her hand off the wheel to do what she’s tole.

“An you still act like ya gotta choice.” He passes my wrist to his other hand and puts his arm around my waist, like at the hotel. Dammit, I shouldn’t have let go of the wheel, now he’s kicking the driver’s door closed and I’m crossing the street to Mick’s car. The feather-faced shorty isn’t riding bitch, at least. Ever the gentleman, Rio’s opening the door and shoving me in rather roughly.

“I can seat myself, _thank you_ ,” her icy tone mean ta chill me but all it mean is I don hafta keep touchin her. I stand, one hand onna door an the other on the roof a the car. She ain’t getting away at least. “What…fffttt…” She’s flailin an I lift my head to indicate she should get in an shut up. She stare at me for one more second, perturbed as fuck, then gets in.

He shuts the door and hits the auto-lock on the keyfob. Fine. If that’s how it’s going to be, I’m going to fasten my seatbelt so he can’t displace me so easily next time. Especially if the car’s still moving. The car starts remotely, before he gets in, which unlocks his door only. I know this trick, I use it on Kenny all the time.

She got herself twisted round before I even get the car inta gear. “What exactly is it about forcing me into cars? Why is that the theme since you came back?” I feel her bambi-blues borin a hole inta th’sidea my head.

“Wouldn’ have to if you were goin along willingly.” I make that noise in the back of my throat. The one that says I know he’s intentionally missing the point. I keep staring. I don’t want him to take his eyes off the road, but I want him to look at me.

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.” She keep starin. I keep lookin at the road. “But since you bring it up – maybe if you told me where we were going… _ever_ …I’d be more willing.” I grunt somethin; not a yes, not a no. She ain’t wrong, but she shouldn hafta know. She should trust me. Should wanna come.

Not like I can trust _her_ anymore.

My eyes flick toward her for a secon an I see her leanin forward, trynta show some cleavage outta that shirt she got on but it ain’t hardly workin.

Dammit, no matter how many times I wrap the hem of my shirt in my fist, the material is too stretchy to lower the neckline much. Still, I think he can appreciate what I’m trying to do. I sweeten my voice.

“I mean … before you went away… the thing you did over and over was move my hair out of my face.” She do the gesture, wit her pinky, like she did in my loft after I empty it – I had to, with her jus droppin in – right before she make amends for kickin me to th’curb. When she seek me out an finally apologize. “How did we get from that… to shoving me into cars without telling me where we’re going or why?”

I lower my lids and look up, a gesture that has worked wonders in the past. I part my lips slightly, barely licking them. If I can just turn this around. Maybe he knows I’m skimming; maybe he just suspects. I covered my tracks and we were good just last week. But if I can turn this around…I put my hand lightly over his on the gearshift, start to slide my fingers down the shaft.

I flick her hand off the gear stick as I come up on a stop sign and downshift. I turn into a park an glide the car round a few curves til I pull behind a maintenance shed. I see her pout out the side a my eye but I don turn toward her. Turn off the engine an stare out the driver side window, with my hand coverin my chin.

I ain’t kiddin myself. I know th’last time she sought me out an apologize was cuz she done fucked up an needed help after cuttin me. But she did it.

Her explanation? She did what she hadta to get her babies back.

But part a repair is trynta not do it again. An here we are. Again.

But this time it worse.

Much worse.

The enormity of what she took from me fills this car an more. She protect her babies wit everythin she has in her…yet she ain’t think for one minute – even though we so damn similar – that the idea of havin one would make me feel exactly the same.

“You tell me, Elizabeth.” He finally looks at me, blinks those godforsaken long eyelashes once, slowly. “How _did_ we get here?”

He sounds so serious I can barely stand it. “Well I think we took the 1 to 7 Mile and then on to Pontchartrain…” The sound as he slams his hands into the steering wheel is so loud that it’s as if the smile from my joke is slapped off my face. And I know I was an idiot to think Max could have fired a gun in that bar and gotten away.

She finally look ashamed as I can’t hold back the anger no more. An it feels good. She ashamed an afraid an she _should_ be. A lil makeup sex ain’t gonna put this right.

But I gotta see what she say.

He chambers a round – for real this time, I hear the difference – and the gun is under my chin, pointing up, lifting my face with it. My eyes flick down and the safety is still on. I swallow reflexively and my mouth can’t open enough to say actual words. He gives me a little leeway.

“I am tired of your cutesy bullshit, Boss Bitch.” I’m trynta do my countin. I know I cain’t shoot her; I proven that repeatedly. “Tell me you know how we got here.” I bite the inside a my cheeks til I taste blood. “An you tell me why.”

“Because you won’t talk to me like a human being, you son of a bitch!” Both her hands on my wrist now, trynta arm wrestle me down in this tiny cramped cab. That an th’surprise a what she said move my hand away from her face. “You come back, get in my face – I can’t tell if you’re going to kill me or fuck me and I panic. Then you’re hot and cold, I’m out, I’m in, I’m your babymomma, I’m your wifey on a honeymoon, I’m your competition, I’m your lackey. I don’t fucking know!”

Fuck that gun. He’s not going to kill something he loves. He may have loaded it this time, but he probably just realized I know the difference.

“So instead a havin a conversation, you bring an idiot with a gun to what – assassinate me? In my own bar? Durin open hours?”

“How am I supposed to have a conversation with you when you block my number?” He flinches at that and looks back out his side window.

“Turnabout fair play,” he says, breath fog making a small circle on the glass in front of him. “Sides, never stopped ya before. You seem t’always get holda me.”

I remember blocking his number last year around the time of the Fall Festival – the last time I cut things off. Before… “Not when you went to Legoland and the shit hit the fan.”

“Just cuz I ain’t pick up don mean you dinnint reach me.” I feel heat in my cheeks an keep lookin away from her. Even panicked messages I wasn’t gonta return had made me feel better cuz she was trynta talk t’me. Back then, it was better than nothin.

I file that away for later, clearly, he’s trying to distract me and I’ll follow that rabbit down a hole when I’m not in a car with a psycho and a gun. But he isn’t getting off the hook just because he throws some shiny admission of affection at me. No sir.

“Whatever. Back then, after I hurt you I became _just work_ to you. Now you swoop in, steal my business from me, fuck me senseless, then without warning tell me I’m – no, WE – is just business again. You took something from me. Something that was _mine_. And then you punish me for it. And you kill my…my _friend_.”

The breath she take in stutterin, tears almost spillin over her worked-up, red cheeks. Her hand slammin the headrest an the other pressed against the dash, liftin her outta the seat. “When I was on it! I was fixing the problem!”

His lunges forward at me. “Ohyeah, you fixin the prollem by kidnappin a bird? Fuckin amateur hour. She already knew you was printin, she tole me fore you got there that night. She wasn’t gonna keep quiet!” And the tears break because I know he’s right. From the conversation we had in her apartment, I knew she’d never stay quiet, even if it meant turning herself in.

She wipe her noiseless tears wit her sleeve an continue softly. “So yeah, I brought an idiot with a gun to your bar to assassinate you in broad daylight while the bar was open. Clearly, I did not provide him with an environment primed for success.” She catch me wit that; my own snort comes out without my permission.

He actually laughs. Covers it quickly with a serious face but shakes his head slowly. “There is that.”

I think back to the time after he told me I was just work, after LegoLand. When I went back to his loft and we made up. He wanted an apology, an explanation. If he’s angry – this time – because I brought Max to kill him, I can talk my way out of it.

But it doesn’t get him off the hook for taking my printing business from me.

“I couldn’t tell you before I did it, because I couldn’t risk something giving it away to Max.” She look up at me, in my eyes, put her hand on mine, over the gun still in my hand. I switch it to the dash, still in reach a my left. “He needed the chance to see that killing you wouldn’t make him feel better.” Her pause got somethin else in it so I raise an eyebrow. She squeeze my fingers together so hard it ain’t pleasant. “And if he did manage to succeed, then at least I would have my print business back,” she spit the words like nails from a nail gun, toss my hand down and flounce back in the seat, facin forward, crossin her arms under that chest.

“Till you’re ready to apologize to me for that, I am not really interested in talking more. Bring me the bills for the next print run, and this time we get a cut. You’re still getting my labor to work off the 100K, but we have bills to pay and can’t keep on with nothing to show for it.”

“The FUCK Imma pologize for? For takin somethin that _yours_ an makin it _ours_?” His words are quiet now, measured and even the way they always are when he’s extremely upset. And he’s staring at his hands, the way he does when he’s hurt. “Why you always think the worst a me, Elizabeth?” His smirk is rueful, like he realizes he made a mistake when he opened me up and saw another criminal inside, thinking we were kindred spirits.

I see her take her time thinkin, an dozens a images flash through my mind – things I ain’t proud of, but some that I explained a way, or made good on later. She see them, too, then remember how I made good. Her mouth open an shut.

“You pay your mortgage this month?” I nod, wondering why he was asking. It was a stretch, and we had to juggle, but it happened. “You actually lookit yer statement?” Narrowing my eyes, I shake my head slowly.

“We’re fixed rate. Statement comes at the end of the year.”

“Yeah, maybe you should call your broker. See if they gonna re-amortize now that’s you’re ahead.”

“Ahead.” Her head cocked to the side, she trynta piece it together. I raise both eyebrows an look at her, waitin for it to click. “But…why…but…you were so mad I took money from Rhea…” An I roll my eyes. Course, I did it fore I found out about the lie, but it still her money. She made it. She payin off her life debt.

“That’s Marcus’ money. Ain’t yours. You had no right.”

I can hear the confusion noises coming from my throat but the relief I’m feeling is so overwhelming I can’t do anything but lean over and kiss him with the flood of gratitude spilling out of me. Even with a gearshift in the way, my hands are on his face and his lips engulf mine. I grind a little against that knob and moan against his mouth. I shouldn’t doubt him, I know I shouldn’t and I hope this kiss is the apology he needs as well as my reminder that he does got me.

My body a traitor as her passion make mi pito jump. Fuckin body. But my brain an heart don care what he up to, today. Nothin I feel reach above my ribcage. It take everythin both those organs can put together to make my hand move hers away from my face, pull my lips from hers an push her shoulder back to her side the car.

“So you up in here, mad cuz I took that business a yours, an made it ours. But you ain’t done zactly the same thing when you hung those pearls on that doorknob.” His face is the blank that I actually don’t like – the one that might actually turn deadly for me one day. I flick my eyes to the dash where the gun still lies. But my mouth goes on its own, anyway.

“What you had was never _ours_ – I never made it that far. You had a whole operation with a full crew and I clawed my way in, barely making myself a member.”

His scoff is followed by a sneer but he may as well have spit on me with what comes next. “Clawed yer way in, yeah, that’s one way to put it.” He looks up this time for full effect. “Sleepin wit the boss is another.”

It hit the mark. She down, flusterin some such about bein useful fore she ever let me hit it.

She ain’t wrong, but I ain’t gonna ease her hurt.

The fact that she ain’t know why she not in my bed anymore … that she can’t even see the way her lie set me up to care an ripped that feelin outta my heart … that she ain’t know me well enough to know what it’d do to me…

That’s worse than her to partner with me on this business.

But it shows, don it, that she just always, only, thinkin a herself. _Her_ business I took. _Her_ money.

“Get out the car, Elizabeth.”

“But…”

“But what. I said get out.” She flops around, lookin at her shoes, thinkin bout how far it is back to her car. I ain’t care. She got a squad, she got feet. I got no sympathy for someone who pile lie upon lie until she told one too many. One too bad.

“Maybe I took somethin that’s _yours_ an tried to make it _ours –_ but you took somethin that was _ours_ an used it for your own gain.” More disgust pours off his face like vomit. “Think on that.”

And I know.

He knows.

I’m so glad I already gave Annie and Ruby their cuts.

He peels out and I look at the park; at least I can cut through it to shorten my walk.

When I’m just a few blocks away from my pee-stained van, Dean texts.

Had a good day. You? Come pick us up and let’s all grab dinner. <

Maybe I’ll have time to hide the money better while the kids are getting ready.

> Be there in 20.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry so heavy -- these past couple episodes just did not feel like they left room for any kind of good moments between Brio. Here's hoping tomorrow's episode brings it back around! O_O


End file.
